


Aspect of Death: Nihilism

by WindyRein



Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character death times two for the same character, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Harry is Ulquiorra, Introspection, Italics galore, Reincarnation, TWT for HP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyRein/pseuds/WindyRein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, this was Death. Not like his first one in the hands of an enraged woman but by the hand of an equal, honourably, in battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aspect of Death: Nihilism

**Author's Note:**

> So, some of you may have read this over at ffnet. This is v. 1.2, which pretty much translates to: same storyline but with added flavour. This _might_ grow up to be a series if the other Aspects will stop fighting me every bloody step of the way.  
>  Also, if anyone has any ideas about how to rate this thing, I'm willing to listen since my own view of what's appropriate for teens might be a bit, umm, skewed.
> 
> Inspirational music: Midnight Syndicate - Gates of Delirium & In Flames - Moonshield

He wasn’t really even surprised when he caught Ginny giving head to Dean. That still didn’t mean that the betrayal didn’t hurt like a bitch, didn’t hurt like something scalding hot was being poked through his heart or maybe it was something freezing between his ribs.

“Harry? Wait, it’s not what it…” she tried to defend her actions but he only turned on his heels and dropped the bouquet of white lilies* in his hand.

“Harry! Where are you going? Harry, wait, I can explain! Harry, please, just _say_ something!” She was crying, he noted with an odd sort of detachment.

He turned around to face the woman, Ginny, and his eyes were dead and empty _betrayed and broken_ causing her to flinch away from him. “What exactly could you say to make this all better?” He waited a moment for her answer but she just shuffled in place and stared at her feet. “I thought so too.”

With that Harry Potter left the house he’d shared with his family for the last seven years.

_T  
  
he  
  
re  
  
was  
  
some  
  
thing  
  
so very  
  
 **c  
  
o  
  
l  
  
d**  
  
abo  
  
ut  
  
it..._

It was somehow very vindictive, yet boring, to watch the proceedings of the Wizengamot’s trial. A trial where Ginerva Weasley-Potter was charged with the murder of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Saviour of the Wizarding World and all things good, among other things. He thought there was something...interesting about seeing his wife alternate between trembling in fear and standing proud and defiant when accused with the slaughter Ron had walked in on.

But this really wasn’t the place for him to be right now. He could feel something closing in. _something pure and powerless and disgusting_

xcxc

He woke up on sand of some kind with a pale crescent moon shining high on the black sky. Completely starless, he noted with the same detachment he’d held since his death.

Maybe even before it.

xcxc

His life was slipping away between his fingers, or claws in this case, and he couldn’t make himself care. Well, slipping metaphorically. Literally, fading would be a better word. Where once was a well of memories and a wealth of laughter, was now misty moors with cunning spirits and wailing whispers.

He could only take to the skies and feel the wind rush past and for a split second feel alive again. But that was something too poetic for a Hollow, even one such as him. He crushed the thought mercilessly and soon spotted a wandering, lost Plus between some piles of trash on an empty alleyway.

Perfect. Absolutely _perfect_.

And yet...not enough.

xcxc

Fifty years, maybe more, maybe less. He wasn’t sure anymore though he thought that it hadn’t quite been a century since his death. Fifty years and the whispers about a man, _a shinigami_ , gathering them to serve his purpose were becoming more and more frequent.

_not pure, not powerless_

xcxc

He woke in a white room.

A blindingly white but blessedly dark room with a few humanoid beings in it.

There was a man with bored eyes and brown hair, no a Hollow, judging by the mask fragment, a female with long green hair, also a Hollow, and yet another male with a kind ( _twisted and false_ ) smile and also brown hair. The last one was giving out his hand for him to take. This man, he noticed, wasn’t a Hollow.

“What’s your name, young one?” the smile was still there and still just as false ( _kind_ ).

“Ulquiorra Cifer, sir.”

xcxc

The woman ( _so,solikeMother_ ) had sparked something in him and now as darkness was seeping closer he thought maybe this was the thing human ( _or shinigami_ ) trash was always so afraid of. Maybe, this was Death. Not like his first one in the hands of an enraged woman but by the hand of an equal, honourably, in battle. That was something he’d hoped to achieve before.

Something to aspire to.

Something none of the others could understand, his longing for something different, for something cold and warm and dark to embrace him and take away thought, feeling and action.

Maybe this would be that moment.

And as he feels himself floating on the wind, he turns his head towards the woman, something in her eyes, almost like sadness but not quite fear. His mouth is moving but he isn’t sure what he’s asking.

His last conscious thought is of reaching for the woman and _so this is what a heart is? not so bad, I suppose..._

**Author's Note:**

> *I do actually realize the irony of having flowers that symbolize virtue and chastity
> 
> As for the change in tense. I regret nothing. It works, or at least my muse and I agree it does, so I'm leaving it like that even though some people might not agree.


End file.
